


Pins and Needles

by GwendolynGrace



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Sewing, good parenting, hercules mulligan love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alexander Hamilton proves to his daughter that yes, he can sew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pins and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> Total fluff, posted to tumblr a short while ago and now I'm adding it here. Alex being a doting parent and father to Angelica, and proving he has mad skillz in unexpected areas. Some indirect Hercules Mulligan love. May or may not become one in a series of interconnected vignettes about Alex and Eliza's domestic life.

**c. 1796**

"This is ridiculous!" Angelica's exasperated cry could be heard clear across the hallway. Hamilton paused over his paper, stabbing his quill back into the inkstand. Sure enough, a moment later, his daughter entered the sanctum and--there was no other word for it--flounced onto the low sofa that stood near the fireplace.

"What's ridiculous?" he asked, careful not to take on too teasing or condescending a tone.

"Papa, I ask you, _when_ am I ever going to need to learn to sew? It's completely impossible--and besides, it's unnecessary."

Hamilton suppressed a number of comments that, he knew, would only send the twelve-year-old into even more of a snit. Instead, with an assessing sort of frown, he inspected the ceiling and said: "I take it this is a lesson your Mama has set you."

He risked a brief glance down at her. Angelica's face bore a piercing, murderous answer to his innocent question. "Obviously," the look said, as intently as ever her older brother could be when he dismissed a statement he found insipid. Not for the first time did Hamilton wonder if he had ever favored his parents with such a look; surely, he had, and surely, they had shown Heaven's own forebearance in the face of it. 

"Well. If your Mama believes you need to know something, my dearest, then it is a thing that ought to be learned--mastered, one might even say. May one inquire what this horrifying task is?"

She huffed at him. "Don't tease, Papa. I said it's sewing."

"Yes, but what manner? Are you to replace buttons? Stitch up a tear in the cloth? Or is it that...the needlepoint stuff your Mama is always practicing?"

"Embroidery?"

"Do you mean you are embroidering or that's what Mama does?"

She giggled, despite her frustration. "Oh, Papa, you know she does embroidery. No, she has me making clothes. But it's silly. We've a seamstress to make all our clothes. And anyway, it's just _impossible_."

"You said that before," Hamilton observed. He rose from his desk and crossed to join her on the sofa. She leaned against him right away, a comfortable warmth, still small and delicate and sweet as she nestled into his side. "But nothing is truly impossible, my love, when you but try."

She looked at him sidewise, doubting and not a little betrayed. He squeezed her shoulders. "Well, what if I were to come and see what you're doing? Would that suit?"

She giggled again. "Papa, you can't sew."

"Oh, can't I?" he countered. "Challenge accepted. Come along, _ma petite_ ," he told her, and getting to his feet, reached for her hand. She let him pull her out of the settle and trotted beside him to the dining room, where her project was laid out upon the table.

"This is simplicity itself," he announced when he saw the pieces of cloth and pattern. He picked up two lengths of dimity. "All you must do is put this gore against this one, and the same on the other side."

Angelica's expression, which had remained steadfastly petulant, now grew incredulous. "Papa, how--"

"Ah. Well, as a soldier, I had to repair my own clothes often, on the march. And besides that…. Do you remember your Papa's friend Mr. Mulligan?"

"Yes," she said, though not with conviction.

"Well. He's a tailor. I lived with him and his wife when I first came to New York. So, yes, it happens, I do know a thing or two about haberdashery."

His little girl's smile beamed with the light of the sun--in that moment, he truly believed they had named her perfectly: she was his little angel. No matter that she could drive them both to distraction with her moods and stubbornness, and more than once his Betsey had nearly despaired of her ever growing into a proper young lady. Once again, Hamilton found the way to remove Angelica's sting, and bring out the honey sweetness that reminded him of her mother.

He held out his hand for the pincushion, and together they pinned the sack into its rough shape. "Right side to right side," he muttered as he pinned it for her. He did not mention that he often helped Herc and his wife as partial payment of his rent, nor did he point out that there might well be a reason to learn a trade. He had no wish to ruin Angelica’s mood by acquainting her with his skeptical outlook on how fortunes could suddenly change--and certainly, he had no intention of frightening her with any hint of disaster, when there was no reason to fear any. 

"Now, stitch that up before your Mama gets home, and she will be so pleased, I'll wager, there may be extra pudding."

"No, you stay and help, Papa," Angelica insisted, with another giggle. 

"Oh, you'd like that! I should love to, dearest, but Papa has to get back to his own tasks. President Washington is not likely to be pleased if he hears I made dresses with you instead of finishing his budget." He dropped a kiss onto her forehead and left her to it.

 

"Alexander, did you help Angelica with her sewing?" Eliza asked as they readied for bed that night. "She could not stop crowing that her Papa knows how to do everything on earth. I half expected that gunny sack to turn into a ball gown, the way she went on."

"I only gave her a nudge," he said with a grin. "She just needs a little encouragement."

"Wrapped around her finger, you are," Betsey said wryly. "But I do believe it's mutual."

**Author's Note:**

> (Note that a 12 year old girl at this time could probably do a lot more than sew, but absent real research, I'm willing to stipulate that Eliza may not have pushed Angelica toward the domestic arts quite so early, for a variety of reasons.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Tumblr @gwenlygrace


End file.
